


Snow and Frozen Things

by obsidian_GSD



Series: Christmas at the Cottage [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Advent Calendar, Advent Calendar Drabble, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, M/M, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:46:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21661648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsidian_GSD/pseuds/obsidian_GSD
Summary: Day 2 Drawlight Advent CalendarIt's snowing. Crowley hates the snow
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Christmas at the Cottage [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560157
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	Snow and Frozen Things

Crowley hates snow.

No, like really hates it. Standing at the window - that’s still covered in decorations - he watches as it falls from the sky and blankets the front lawn. He knows his garden will be frozen over within hours and curls his lip at the thought of having to deal with that mess later.

He shivers, pulling his arms tighter around his thin frame. The snake in him is begging to go back to bed, to curl up in a warm patch somewhere and sleep the season away. Wake up when it’s all green and warm again. Yet here he is, scowling out the window as it grows colder still.

Crowley doesn’t hear Aziraphale walk up behind him and starts when he feels arms encircle him, pulling him back against a strong chest that radiates so much heat. A small huff escapes him that has Aziraphale chuckling. “Your face is going to freeze like that if you stand here for much longer.”

“Going to freeze anyways if I have to go outside. How do the humans find this enjoyable?” The demon grumbles.

(If he was being honest with himself, it’s about more than just the cold. But is he ever really honest with himself? He’s a demon after all.)

Aziraphale hums as he nuzzles against the taller one’s neck, making a different kind of shiver run through Crowley. “I think you just need to see that it can be fun,” the angel says.

Before Crowley can ask what he means, those arms are pulling away from him and he hears a snap. Turning around, he sees his angel moving towards the front door, bundled up in several layers complete with a scarf, hat, and gloves. Crowley rolls his eyes and glares when Aziraphale beckons to him. “Fine…” he groans before snapping his own fingers.

Clothing appears on him within moments, but he knows nothing will be enough to completely block out the cold. He makes his way outside and meets his angel on the porch. “Well?” He asks but Aziraphale only shushes him.

“A moment, dear,” the angel whispers and so Crowley waits.

As they stand there, what has been a dark and gloomy day soon brightens, the sun poking its way out behind clouds that are still dropping snow around them. When the light hits the snow, Crowley’s breath catches as everything around them shines with the purest light he’s seen in a very long time. The trees glisten, his bushes shimmer, and the yard itself twinkles as the light bounces around the place.

He turns to Aziraphale, mouth hanging open, and is taken aback by the sight he meets there; at some point the angel’s hat disappeared and white hair gleams with melting snow, almost as radiant as the smile that greets him. “Look at how beautiful it is…” Aziraphale trails off as he turns to look around their yard.

Crowley can’t tear his eyes away from Aziraphale, from how absolutely pure and perfect his angel looks next to him. “I am, angel,” he manages to say.

Maybe this snow thing isn’t that bad, he muses. He doesn’t get to think about it for long though, his thoughts scattering when a ball of snow smacks into his shoulder with a laughing angel prancing away. Crowley only glares for a moment before that sound reaches him, melting him as he gives chase to his angel with his own ball of snow in hand.

(He’ll be frozen later, but Aziraphale will be there, a blanket and a cup of warm tea in hand that Crowley spikes when his angel looks away. He’s still a demon, after all.)


End file.
